block us in. Our only
anxiety is about the supplies. We have tea and coffee enough to last
over to-morrow, the sugar is just done, and the flour is getting low.
It is really serious that we have "another mouth to feed," and the
newcomer is a ravenous creature, eating more than the three of us. It
dismays me to see his hungry eyes gauging the supply at breakfast, and
to see the loaf disappear. He told me this morning that he could eat
the whole of what was on the table. He is mad after food, and I see
that Mr. K. is starving himself to make it hold out. Mr. Buchan is
very far from well, and dreads the prospect of "half rations." All
this sounds laughable, but we shall not laugh if we have to look hunger
in the face! Now in the evening the snow clouds, which have blotted
out all things, are lifting, and the winter scene is wonderful. The
mercury is 5 degrees below zero, and the aurora is glorious. In my
unchinked room the mercury is 1 degrees below zero. Mr. Buchan can
hardly get his breath; the dryness is intense. We spent the afternoon
cooking the Thanksgiving dinner. I made a wonderful pudding, for which
I had saved eggs and cream for days, and dried and stoned cherries
supplied the place of currants. I made a bowl of custard for sauce,
which the men said was "splendid"; also a rolled pudding, with
molasses; and we had venison steak and potatoes, but for tea we were
obliged to use the tea leaves of the morning again. I should think
that few people in America have enjoyed their Thanksgiving dinner more.
We had urged Mr. Nugent to join us, but he refused, almost savagely,
which we regretted. My four-pound cake made yesterday is all gone!
This wretched boy confesses that he was so hungry in the night that he
got up and ate nearly half of it. He is trying to cajole me into
making another.

November 29.

Before the boy came I had mistaken some faded cayenne pepper for
ginger, and had made a cake with it. Last evening I put half of it
into the cupboard and left the door open. During the night we heard a
commotion in the kitchen and much choking, coughing, and groaning, and
at breakfast the boy was unable to swallow food with his usual
ravenousness. After breakfast he came to me whimpering, and asking for
something soothing for his throat, admitting that he had seen the
"gingerbread," and "felt so starved" in the night that he got up to eat
it.

I tried to make him feel that it was "real mean" to ea